Holy Mother
by Linen Tartaruga
Summary: Sometimes she wished that none of this had ever happened to her.


**Title: Holy Mother  
Summary:** Sometimes she wished that none of this had ever happened to her.  
**Rating:** G/K  
**Disclaimer:** If I owned FMA, then I wouldn't be poor and this wouldn't be a fanfic.  
**Notes:** I wrote this because . . . well, I thought that Trisha Elric was portrayed very one-sided from the eyes of two boys that adored and deified her. But even perfect mothers have low moments sometimes, especially when their husbands abandon them with no word to take care of two small children by themselves.

* * *

Having children was hard, especially when they were very young. It was made even more difficult when you had to take care of them on your own. For almost six years now, Trisha Elric had had to be mother, father, caretaker, maid, warden, and sole provider for her two boys. She loved them very much, of course -- they were the light of her life. It was just that sometimes . . . Sometimes she wished that none of this had ever happened to her.

It was selfish of her, she knew. So incredibly selfish of her. _More_ than selfish. But sometimes she just wished. She wished that she didn't have to take care of two children all by herself. She wished that she hadn't had children to begin with, because that had been the reason that he'd left, hadn't it? It wasn't until after Alphonse had been born that he'd just gone. That was what she most wished for, though. She wished that Hohenheim hadn't left her; or that she just hadn't met him at all.

Everything had seemed so perfect in the beginning. He'd appeared out of nowhere one day, a handsome southern gentleman with all of the charm of a prince and all of the knowledge of the most intelligent scholar. Trisha had only been a teenager then, while Hohenheim had been the sweet, charming, worldly older man. He'd quite simply swept her off of her feet.

Trisha's parents hadn't approved, of course, but they'd been married as soon as she'd turned eighteen. They'd been so in love and she hadn't even cared that Hohenheim hadn't been able to take her on a honeymoon. Instead, they'd moved directly into his home in Rizenbul and, about two years later, they'd been blessed with little Edward. Trisha loved watching her husband play with their son. It was truly heartwarming and she took so many pictures and they were scatter all over the house. So she had thought that Hohenheim would have been pleased when she told him that she was pregnant again. She'd been quite mistaken.

It had been around that time that Hohenheim began changing. He become less involved in his family -- less _interested_ -- and he began spending more and more time in his study, locking himself away inside for hours on end refusing meals and, sometimes, even sleep. He became distant and, eventually, wouldn't even stand to be touched, even by little Edward. It hurt so badly when he pulled away from her, but it had all come together when she began smelling the perfume.

She'd been such a fool to think that a man so much older than her would have actually been truly interested in her. She was just too young and probably too immature for him; he obviously would have preferred some older woman with more worldly experience. So it shouldn't have come as such a surprise to her when she awoke one morning to a cold, empty bed and her husband nowhere to be found.

Trisha had bone immediately to their neighbors hoping that they might have heard something, since Pinako Rockbell had been an old friend of Hohenheim's. But no, he hadn't left any word there either and the Rockbells had been just as surprised to discover that he'd disappeared. The strangest thing was, though, that all he'd taken with him had been a suitcase of clothes; all of his other belongings were still there, even everything in his study that he'd always guarded so desperately.

It just didn't make any sense and Trisha had to wonder what it was she had done to make him not love her anymore. More often than not, Trisha _did_ blame herself and just wished that she had been given the chance to change whatever she'd done wrong.

But sometimes . . . Sometimes, in moments she wasn't at all proud of, she wished that she had never met Hohenheim; that they had never gotten married; that she had never had children.

_-End­_


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